


In Remembrance

by lady_krysis (saekhwa)



Category: Egyptian Mythology
Genre: 100-1000 Words, Chromatic Character, Comment Fic, Community: femslash_today, F/F, Female Characters, Femslash, POV Character of Color
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-09
Updated: 2009-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-03 18:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saekhwa/pseuds/lady_krysis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bast and Sekhmet are two halves of a whole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt 'through the ages, halves of a whole, storm' for [femslash_today's Fireworks09](http://community.livejournal.com/femslash_today).

"I understand you," Bast whispers and presses her palm to Sekhmet's, their fingers filling in the gaps of each other's hands.

"Do I need to be understood?" Sekhmet asks, her claw-like nails finding the grooves of Bast's knuckles, but Bast does not bleed; neither of them know how to.

"Will you--" Bast's words dissolve into silence.

"What do you want?" Sekhmet's voice rumbles around the words, her breath like desert heat so close to Bast's mouth.

Bast parts her lips to catch the sweep of each breath, leans closer to feel the purr of Sekhmet's voice, hand clutching at the delicate slope of Sekhmet's shoulder. Sekhmet, the lioness, who wears her old face. "I want to know your brilliance," Bast softly confesses, and those words contain the storm of her want. She could not stop the humans from dreaming her into a different shape, from changing her, from making her into something else--something tame--and she longs for the fierceness of the sun again.

"You used to be … ." No words are necessary.

"Yes," Bast agrees, swaying forward, her nails now pressing into Sekhmet's skin, "I used to be."

"Time will see us undone."

Bast's hand shifts to cup the back of Sekhmet's neck, her fingers curling into the soft fur of a face they used to share. "If I am to be unmade, I'd rather it be by your hand, Mistress of Dread." Sekhmet's nails bite more deeply into Bast's form, and Bast presses closer with a quiet, "Yes. Better you." And what Bast keeps in her quiet sigh is, _Always you_.

Sekhmet's body is like the heat of the sun, and it burns Bast, burns her into silk sheets and deserts until her spine bows from the force of it. She becomes undone beneath Sekhmet's ministrations--a thick tongue sliding sweetly over her like honey, lion's teeth staining her inner thighs with bold kisses, nails curving into claws and sinking into her hips.

Bast wants to be unmade, destroyed, _reinvented_. She wants; she arches; she breaks on a sigh, on a storm of sound, on time, and in Sekhmet--_with_ Sekhmet--she finds herself whole.


End file.
